Welsh Journals

SEASIDE The sea, whose desperate misery can never be assuaged For long, all November crashes along the shores Battering away in a mad fit of grief and rage. Bashing against the reinforced sea-wall where I am standing She scatters spray venomously like a grey-haired insane Ravenous old woman smashing glass with her hands. I am a little nervous but remain fairly composed Remembering how I played upon the sands Summers ago, as a child, in complete exposure. D. S. Savage THE GREEN NAVIES 0 Christ I to think of the green navies and the green-skulled crews. MELVILLE. By Capricorn seas and typhoon Or stove hatch death sands their eyes With a quick salt end, A watch below in the sea-bed schools. Only Mother Carey's chickens See them go; squawk and scavenge. Davy Jones's crews: in two tides A squid has their blood and magpie Fish have cached their jewel eyes; Jumbos rub their flanks away; A crab hermits in the empty skull And big-sea brooms polish their ribs. Their souls inhabit rats; their flesh Fell in a hundred ports; speech Was broadcast in lost winds. Only a seaman moonraking over The wall, pipes the green navies; Can see a coral cross of bones. JOHN Prichard.